


Reasons Whispered Like Prayers

by KnittingBatman



Series: Mighty Nein Vignettes [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (its all to do with his tusks), Abandonment Issues, Angst, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Asexual Fjord (Critical Role), Character Study, Fjord (Critical Role) Has Issues, Fjord Is Big Awkward, Fjord Just Wants To Be Loved, Fjord Needs A Hug, Fjord Wants Much More Than This Provincial Life, Gen, Happy Ending, Orphanage, Sad Orphan Fjord, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, a little bit, also maybe, did i do tags good?, it can go either way, or at least optimistic, somebody give fjord a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 07:43:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17576738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnittingBatman/pseuds/KnittingBatman
Summary: "Every day Fjord thinks of a reason why his parents abandoned him in this orphanage. He never repeats a reason, if he can help it. There’s no use in letting them fester like that. Just one new reason, once a day. Simple."---A glimpse into Fjord's childhood.





	Reasons Whispered Like Prayers

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by one of Travis's comments during an episode of Talks Machina a few weeks ago. I started scribbling stuff down before the episode even finished and it has spiraled into this!
> 
>    
> Also I would like to thank lathanya for being my fabulous beta/sounding board!

Fjord thinks up a different reason every day. It’s nearly a ritual at this point. Sometimes he does it in the morning, right after he wakes up. He lays in his cot (though that’s a generous word for what it is), staring up at the blank ceiling, feeling stray pieces of straw stabbing into his back. It used to be uncomfortable, but the lumps are familiar now; they keep him grounded. He listens to the slow, rhythmic breaths of the five other orphans who share this cramped room and he lets his mind wander. Sometimes he does it as he fulfills his daily tasks: scrubbing the floors until his fingers bleed, winding his way through the packed and boisterous streets of Port Damali on errands, minding the younger children as they scamper around during their limited, orphanage-sanctioned, free time. Some days he nearly forgets and he rushes to come up with a reason before he drifts off to sleep. He limits himself to one reason a day no matter when he does it—it wouldn’t do to drown himself in self-pity after all. 

Every day he thinks of a reason why his parents abandoned him in this orphanage. He never repeats a reason, if he can help it. There’s no use in letting them fester like that. Just one new reason, once a day. Simple.

Fjord’s already considered all the obvious reasons. Perhaps his parents couldn’t stand a mongrel like him. Maybe he was too orc-like, with his jutting teeth and verdant skin, too monstrous to live among humans. Or maybe he was too human, runty and pathetic, a weakling who’d never survive life in the clans.

At his most hopeful, Fjord’s considered the idea that his parents were just too poor to support a child. That they were forced to give him up for his own good. At his least hopeful, Fjord’s thought that his parents saw some fundamental defect in him and gave him up out of disgust. When life seems particularly meaningless, Fjord’s considered the idea that his parents simply weren’t in the mood to raise a child on the day he was born. Maybe they’re just dead. He has no way of knowing for sure.

 

Those simple reasons lasted him a few years, but once he’d run through all the obvious scenarios, Fjord had to force himself to be more creative.

For six consecutive weeks when Fjord was eight years old, he only considered fantastical reasons plucked straight out of the tales of bards.

Fjord’s favorite reason from this time goes like this:

His father was an honorable outlaw. A man outside of society who protected the downtrodden and the weak. He was a man who had fallen in love with a beautiful girl from a nearby town. The Girl was kind and sweet and tended to The Outlaw’s injuries after every fight. They soon married in secret, for they knew the town would not approve of their love. But The Outlaw’s enemies were powerful and vicious. When they learned of his wife, they sought to teach him a lesson, as they were humiliated and frustrated by their constant defeats at The Outlaw’s hand. They sent assassins to the lovers’ secret home and murdered The Girl. But The Girl was clever, and she’d hidden her infant son as soon as she’d heard the assassins’ approach, and in doing so had saved his life. When The Outlaw returned to his home, he was horrified and heartbroken. His only solace was that his son was still alive. However, he knew any child of his would never be safe, so he decided to give up the baby up for its own protection. That very night, The Outlaw left his son on the front steps of the orphanage and disappeared into the night.

Fjord imagines that one day he will grow up to be a hero like his father and he’ll exact revenge on the men who destroyed his family. Upon hearing the news, The Outlaw will return from his self-imposed exile with a heart full of pride.

After all, that’s how the story ends.

Of course, after those six weeks, Fjord dismissed those reasons as childish fancies. He’s not destined for greatness. He’s not special. There’s no grand conspiracy keeping him from his parents. No, the only reason he’s here is the simple fact of his own inadequacy. And that’s fine. It’s not like anyone else’s life is any better.

 

Sometimes, if Fjord can’t come up with a reason on his own, the other children are more than happy to provide him with one. Their insults may not be the most creative, but through their sheer number Fjord never fails to find a reason he’s never quite considered before.

Whether he hears the reason from a circle of bullies who share their taunts loudly for all to hear or overhears a snatch of a surreptitious conversation meant to evade the keen ears of the orphanage monitors, each reason serves just as well and Fjord offers them up with perverse relish. On these days, Fjord feels a twinge of guilt mixed with satisfaction. It’s the same way he feels when he steals sweets from the kitchens. Like he’s gotten away with something he shouldn’t have.

 

Fjord’s never heard of the death by a thousand cuts, but he lives it each day as every new reason slices a fresh wound into his soul. They’re only tiny hurts, he reasons, no need to get worked up about it. And yet, he takes each reason to heart. If it’s within his power, Fjord does his best to scrub any flaws from his existence, sanding down his sharp edges and molding himself into something more desirable. He’ll never admit it—even to himself—but he hopes that with enough effort, he’ll become someone worthwhile. Someone his parents would regret abandoning if they saw him. That if they saw him now, they’d want him back.

It’s this line of thinking that leads Fjord to hunch over a mirror once a month, a file in his hand. He stands there, scraping away at his tusks until they’re safely hidden behind his lower lip and a trickle of blood runs out the side of his mouth. In the moments before Fjord rinses out his mouth, he sees the monstrous sight of blood coating his teeth and knows deep-down that all his efforts are futile. But he always finds himself back here with that file because to stop would be to admit defeat.

Fjord’s desire to be worthy also drives him to become an excellent thief. Not of things, but of mannerisms. He watches the people he admires carefully, trying to understand what makes them tick and once he finds that thing, he steals it. He never takes too much—a smile here, a turn of phrase there, the way someone carries their body—not enough that his deception will be noticed, but just enough to start crafting something new. Something _better_.

 

As Fjord approaches adolescence, he wonders if his parents knew—even when he was a baby—that he wouldn’t love quite right. As all his peers become obsessed with girls, with boys, with anyone—Fjord feels a hollow in his chest, knowing he doesn’t feel the same.

He tries his best; he really does. And after all of his thieving, Fjord’s good at pretending. He knows the right words to say, the right places to put his hands, the right way to cant his head and bat his eyes just so to please his partner.

Well, he knows it right up until the instant the person he’s flirting with begins to touch him back. After that, Fjord becomes a blubbering, floundering mess. It’s like all communication between Fjord’s brain and his mouth is cut off until he extricates himself from the situation. It’s exhausting.

But Fjord keeps trying. At least enough to keep up appearances. It wouldn’t do to have rumors about him flying all over town.

 

To make matters worse, he knows his body has become something approximating handsome in the last year or so. He knows it from the unabashed giggling that he hears from the herds of girls that he passes in the streets. He knows it from the envious and hungry looks that the other boys throw his way when his muscles strain beneath his clothes as moves crates at the docks.

However, he doesn’t see it himself. All he sees when he looks in the mirror (usually with his file in hand) are his scratched and stubby tusks, ground into nothingness and his sickly green-yellow skin and his unnaturally shiny eyes. No, Fjord doesn’t find anything there worth seeing. But ever since he’s changed, _things_ are expected of him, and he’s not sure he can deliver. He’s not sure he _wants_ to deliver.

But Fjord knows he’s being silly. His parents couldn’t have possibly known he’d turn out like this. It was surely some other reason.

 

Fjord continues to plod through his life, keeping his head down, considering reasons and offering them up to the universe. It’s not thrilling, but it keeps him going.

 

One day, there’s a shift in Fjord’s fortunes, though he doesn’t know it at first. A sailor has come to the orphanage in search of good, sturdy hands to crew his ship. He makes his way through the common room, stopping to chat with only the most promising looking boys (young men, really). As the sailor approaches, Fjord catches the sea-salt smell of freedom as it wafts off the man’s skin and he realizes this is his chance. For all that Fjord has doubted himself over the years, for all of the reasons he has considered, he has never once doubted his work ethic or his dedication. And so, for the first time (though not the last), Fjord takes a leap of faith and throws himself headlong into the unknown.

Fjord beckons the man over to his table and says without any preamble, “Take me with you.” The man cocks an eyebrow, and for a second Fjord thinks he’s made a mistake, but then the sailor chuckles and takes a seat. “Call me Vandren,” he says, and Fjord feels stars beginning to form in his eyes as the man’s commanding yet friendly drawl washes over him. And in that moment, Fjord _wants_ —wants something unknown and unnamable—and he begins planning his biggest theft yet. The man—Vandren—warns Fjord, “The work won’t be easy, but it will be good. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Fjord says it doesn’t matter. He’ll do anything, _be_ anything if it means that Vandren will take him away from here.

Vandren leans back in his chair, a calculating—though not unkind—look in his eyes. Fjord begins to squirm in his seat as the man’s gaze lays his soul bare. Fjord imagines that Vandren can hear every silent offering that Fjord has ever made. That Vandren can see the shame that runs bone-deep, down to Fjord’s very core, and rots him from the inside out.

And for one terrible, infinite moment, Fjord worries that Vandren is going to turn him down. That, like always, Fjord won’t be enough. That he’ll be stuck in this place forever. Besides, it was stupid ( _stupid_ ) to expect anything of Vandren. They’re perfect strangers; Vandren has no obligation to Fjord. He’s not Fjord’s _father_ — and anyway, Fjord knows better than to hand his heart out to anyone who walks through the door. Or at least, he should. Being stupid enough to pin all his hopes on some stranger is just one more reason to add to his endless litany of reasons.

But just as panic and disappointment begin to claw their way out of Fjord’s chest, the moment collapses as Vandren’s face softens, becoming open and clear once more. Fjord doesn’t know what Vandren saw in him, but it must have been enough because he clears his throat and says, “Of course, son. I’d be thrilled to have a man like you aboard. Hurry up now and fetch your things if you’ve got ‘em. We ship out tonight.”

  
Fjord’s heart thrills in his chest and he goes lightheaded with joy. He probably makes a fool of himself as he splutters his thanks and stumbles his way up the staircase to his room but he can’t bring himself to care. And even though he’s had the same room for years, he still manages to get lost in the orphanage’s familiar halls. When he finally finds the right door, his hand shakes as he reaches out to open it. The room is empty, and Fjord trips over himself as he shoves his meager belongings into his rucksack. He’s done in a matter of seconds. As he pushes himself up, he takes a moment to survey the bland room that has been a silent witness to a lifetime of pain. Like a prayer, Fjord sends out one final reason to whoever— _whatever_ —may be listening. Then he turns on his heel, hoists his bag over his shoulder, and rushes back downstairs to find Vandren without so much as a backward glance.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and Kudos make my life so please leave them if you enjoyed!


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